


Stumbling Drunk [Archived]

by Loreen_Di



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Alcohol/Drinking, Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Blood, Bloodmagic, Brief or implied: Abuse, Brief or implied: Torture, Canon Hawke deaths, Descriptions of game like violence, Mentions of Past Slavery, Multi, game replay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-03-05 20:45:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13395906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loreen_Di/pseuds/Loreen_Di
Summary: This is an archive of Stumbling Drunk, both the chapters and notes as they were originally posted from March of 2015 to March of 2017. Each update here will coincide (within a day) with the chapter being updated with revisions on the original post until all chapters have been revised.I.E. this is the rough and relatively unedited first draft of this fic, re-posted.





	1. Fall Back

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Stumbling Drunk](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3638877) by [Loreen_Di](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loreen_Di/pseuds/Loreen_Di). 



> Summary:  
> It was like time had folded on itself and dropped her back off in the middle to relive things she had already done. She can change things. Do it better. The one fault in her retry. Oh there are many faults don't get her started. She is for all intent and purpose: No longer "Hawke". Maker only knows how much this all hurts her.
> 
> Aka: Marian is thrown into an alternate timeline and, while hiding who she really is, struggles between searching for a way back, and making a difference here as only she could. Garrett attempts to put the puzzle of “Marian Hawke” together, you know, if she'll ever tell him anything...
> 
> Notes:   
> I know I’m doing this backwards to how most would, but I want to finish the fic where I started it with all its comments views and bookmarks and kudos intact, but I also want to have a reference point to how the story originally looked before revisions, and archive my rambling overlong notes so the final finished fic is neater. So instead of posting the revised fic as a new fic I'm doing this.
> 
> There are plentiful mistakes here.
> 
> Original Notes:  
> G and M Hawke chapters are in first person, NPC chapters will not be. Chapter tittles: 2 words=Marian, 3=Garrett.
> 
> Warning will be provided before chapters with heavier content. Tags will be updated with more warnings as needed. Please check back.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke makes a choice.

The world was red and a sword was plunged in my gut. Blood on my lips, iron and hot.  
  
The idol huh? She could have done a better job to hide the obvious similarities. The pommel right there, I could reach out and touch it, was literally unchanged from its former, well, form. An ugly little skull. MY fingers brushed it reaching over the arms of the woman who held the blade. Why had I not noticed sooner. I could have stopped this sooner. She's been walking around with the blighted thing for months.  
  
My vision blinked, red, black, red.  
  
"What could you have done?"  
  
"I could have changed things." Really why are you asking?  
  
Was Meredith laughing? I stumbled. Falling back. Pain blossoming in my shorn insides. Life leaking out of me. Daggers clutched rigid in my hands. Meredith's eyes were cold and harsh with a dull crackling of red.  
  
Anders would have a field day with this injury-  
  
Oh Anders.  
  
Then the sword was gone. My vision faltered. I could see the darkness circling into my peripherals. I'm passing out. A shoulder. A strong spiky shoulder and strong spiky arms. The Heave and fall of his breath against my back. Fenris has caught me. Good. Thank you Fenris.  
  
"Maker this hurts." Oh I shouldn't have sent Anders away. I should have made him stay. Why did everyone leave decisions to me. How were we supposed to get though this without a healer.  
  
"Shut up Hawke," not his usual battle calm. Don't worry Fenris. Remember the Arishok? You verbally threw me at his mercy remember? This is nearly identical. ha.  
  
I tried to say it, I really did, but blood racked out of my mouth instead with a painful cough. Red coming up from my lungs swallowing my ability to breathe right.  
  
"Please, Hawke." He was dragging me away. My head lolled back to his shoulder. I could just see his eyes, green and determined, but edged in panic. Noted it in the little twitches at the corners of his too wide eyes, his lips cut in a fine line, His breathing too ragged to just be exertion.  
  
"Fenris." It was little, gurgled, too small for my voice. I felt his breath catch. My hand met his face and smeared blood there. Sorry Fenris. Puppy eyes green and wide. Don't Fenris. Please don't.  
  
Red sparked from somewhere in my peripheral. I felt the shockwave. Stumbled, as well as a person being dragged can stumble. We went down together, knocked off our feet. The pain was a wash, everything else was gone.  
  
The world split open. Or it felt like it did, along with my head and everything else. Images swam. What was that about your life flashing before your eyes before you die. I never expected it to be so blurry and jumbled.  
  
 I could hear, faintly. Somewhere outside of the pit I was falling into so so slowly. A curse in Arcnum, a Fenris curse. It was somewhere far, far, away from where I was in the dark with my life swimming around me.  
  
He had been right there at my side. Now it was like there were miles and maybe a wall made of cotton between his voice and my ears and the deep fall I was taking. It felt eerily like I was slipping into, though, the fade.  
  
" Promise me you won't die? I can't bear the thought of living without you." the words rang in my head over and over. I could almost taste his lips on mine but it felt like so long ago. We were hungry and desperate, and afraid and determined. I wanted that mouth. I wanted those eyes forever and ever. I love him. I never said it. Damn why did I never say it.  
   
Ah, I'd promised hadn't I.  
  
  
"Don't die."  
  
"Fenris, I won't die!"  
  
  
My father's hand is in mine. Thin and frail where it once was strong and steady.  
  
"Protect them."  
  
"Of course dad, I promise. What else would I do?" I said it with a smile. Half hearted but genuine. Dad you can protect them I wanted to say. We just have to fight this out.  He looked so relived. Smile stretching across his pained features. Amber brown eyes crinkling at the corners as they always did.  
  
Mother had his other hand. She was a wreck eyes  all puffy and bloodshot with haggard purple bags beneath them. It was so good to see her, hair just starting to go grey anyway. Blue eyes cast down at the hand in her husband's. So we sat by his bedside in the house all the way in Lothering. Dad was dying.  
  
"Do you want to live?" Dads eyes were on me, the light of the hearth turning them to gold.  
  
"Yes."  
  
There was laughter somewhere. Everything should hurt shouldn't it. I'm dying. Right? Where's Fenris?  
  
Faces swam. Bethany with our mother's face. Bethany falling in the Deep Roads blight riddled and in pain, my knife slipping between her ribs to find her heart. Mother, smiling at father in our little kitchen, weeping on dirty floorboards in Gamlen's hovel, laughing about courting again. Carver. Sweet insufferable Carver, Blue eyes and a pain in the ass, Carver charging in to kill the ogre.  
  
"Do you wish I'd lived?" his voice was small and far away. So unlike him. So sad. Like he was little again and I was his big sister who picked him up when he scraped his knees.  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Do you wish you could have been different?" Carver's voice in the mouth of a little boy. A boy I still recognise as Carver, knees scraped up, eyes puffy. Mother fussing at the kitchen counter.  
  
"Yes. I could have done so much better." If I'd trained harder before Ostagar. If I had charged the ogre, danced out of its way. I fucked up everything. Well everything but one thing. One thing that was enough to keep the rest at bay.  
  
"You would change things If you went back?"  
  
"Maker yes." All but one thing. Or maybe two. There was that laughter again.  
  
_Our mistakes make us who we are_. Jarring. I looked around for the source of the voice in our little house. Bethany sat in a chair by the little table. Mother was bandaging Carvers knee.  
  
"Are you ready to go Little Hawk?" I looked up, Dad, towering over me in the doorway, pack in hand. Amber eyes and beard surrounding a bright smile. Right there for that one instant I was home.  
  
"Yes." The room sparked red, Laughter peeled off the walls. My father's face cracked. Bethany screamed. The world swam. Images. faces. Darkness. Everything tilted jarringly. I lost my footing. A void opened beneath me, felt not seen. I was falling.  
  
Falling.

* * *

  
  
The ground was cold. Everything smelled like smoke, and filth. City. It smells like Lowtown. I braced myself for pain but none came. Eyes tight shut I just breathed. I could feel the stones dirty and rough beneath me, I was becoming aware of a puddle my leg was soaking in. Ew. I ran an hand down my abdomen and opened my eyes. The sky was smoky and dull, sunlight drifting though the smog and clouds above.  
  
There was no wound. My armor was not unscathed but the gaping hole I expected to find in myself was not there. Why was I expecting a wound? I fumbled at the clean cut edges of the hole cut through fabric leather and mail. One on the many straps cut nearly in two. I would need to get this fixed.  
  
A few people bumbled past the opening of the ally I was deposited in. Looking at me with queer expressions I didn't dine to return. Yes, your champion is taking a nap in the dirt and mud, I hope it's dirt and mud, no need to draw attention.  
  
I sat up one of my daggers was still in hand, I found the other dropped by my side. My other possessions were with me as well. Passed out in low town that was surprising. Passed out in low town you were just as likely to be gutted as you were to be robbed blind. I managed neither. Just a muddy leg and a hole through every layer of my armour.  
  
Who cut this hole in my armour?  
  
I don't know how I wound up here. It felt like somebody had rattled my skull around for a good few hours. Or that I got really, really, drunk and was now mildly, just mildly, hung-over. Wracking my brain I tried to recall what lead to this moment. Nothing. I got a letter from the gallows? Mmm. It wasn't coming back to me.  
  
Oh yes. Grabbing my notebook, a small leather-bound volume I had had since I was sixteen. I kept logs in it. Little things people ask me to do written down so I make sure I remember the important details and get it done. It had been my father's habit to keep notes. I'd picked up on it after he- Well I started keeping journals and a smaller abbreviated log to be expanded on in said journal with all the raunchy details I could recall. I flipped to the most recent page.

  
___  
Letter from Orsino.  
  
~~Visit gallows.~~  
  
**_Chantry_**  
___  
  
  
We were headed to stop a confrontation between Meredith and Orsino at the chantry. I am this cities baby sitter, champion, after all. I remember that. All right stupor sulking done. Get up. Up. Out of this filthy ally. I slung my daggers back in there sheaths and set out.  
  
I guess Hightown is the best option. To the chantry. I can figure this out. Varric, Fenris, and Aveline had gone with me. Were they okay? What had happened? Fuzzy images, voices I can't process. This is infuriating. I picked up my pace. Through the market and to the huge staircase up to Hightown. Taking two steps at a time. People Gawked. I recognised a few of them, just faces in a crowd I was used to seeing. I know this armour isn't the most stealthy really but I've been wearing the whole set for at least two weeks now. Most people must be used to me rushing by in glaring red and back. I pulled up my hood anyway feeling strangely out of place with their eyes on me.  
  
The high town market was a busy as usual, a rush of voices scents and faces milling from stall to stall. I danced past the patrons ready to bolt up the stairs and run for the chantry. Something about all this felt pressing. Important. I couldn't place it. In A way, it felt like an ending. Like fleeing Lothering. The worlds reached its boiling point and I wake up passed out in an ally with no explanations.  
  
"Who brought the old woman!"  
  
I skidded to a halt as the voices. Unnervingly recognisable voices came out from the dwarven sector of Hightown as I rushed past. Bartrand? And those others. A woman's pleading with two deeper baritones', both recognisable, one more so than the other. My breath caught. No. That's impossible. Both are impossible. I turned stiff, disjointed. Shaking I stepped back my feat carrying me into the entrance of the square. What I'm seeing isn't possible.  
  
My friends. My companions ringed around Bartrand and the rest of his expedition crew. To the side away from the rest, three people. Two of them that I would recognise anywhere. Feminine long grey hair and short black and muscled. It had been so long since I'd seen their faces heard them speak outside of dreams. The pair were arguing with a taller if less muscular man. Bearded and in faintly familiar robes.  
  
I can't bring myself to move. This picture will shatter. Their voices carrying across the square.  
  
Carver died in Ferelden. Mother was murdered. This. What's going on?  
  
  
This is the Deep Roads expedition. All the pieces are there. Even the bits of conversation I can hear.  
  
Don't, don't, bring Carver. The Deep Roads are not safe for little Hawkes.  
  
Was this the fade? It. It didn't feel like the fade. I starred up. Kirkwall sky. No murk or twinge or taint to indicate and offness. The only thing off was the when, the where, the who. Who was that standing where I had over six years ago?  
  
It was over before I even started to process.  
  
They walked passed me. Mother with Carver in toe. I couldn't move, just watched as they walked by me and away down the steps into the market. Without so much as a glance my way. Tears pricked at the back of my eyes. I wanted to run after them. I wanted to know what was going on here. I was rooted in place. I felt a twinge in my gut and my hand fell to the hole in my raiment. I poked at my stomach beneath, a flat wall of muscle pushing back.  
  
The rest of the scene played out, just like I remember it. Fenris, Merrill, Varric and that man with the beard walking past me at the edge of the group. Setting out for the Deep Roads. A month and two weeks in hell.  
  
I lurched out, no grace, no stealth, grabbed the man's arm.  
  
"A moment Serah?" the words flooded out. My breath caught. This man. He-  
  
From the shape of his eyes , his jaw line, to the shape of his black beard. The only difference really? His bright blue eyes and golden complexion, like mothers. Everything else is my fathers. This man has my father's face. They could be brothers, twins.  
  
Who are you? I can't say it. None of this is real. Not yet. Not for me. I went to the deep roads over six years ago. My sister died there. Carver was already dead. Mother was murdered. Father died years before we ran from Ferelden. I'm going to stop the first enchanter and the night commander from starting another war in this city.  
  
He didn't move. Didn't even flinch. Just stopped short. I couldn't look at anyone else. I did, a glance, at Fenris. Fenris looking at me like he was preparing to jump in and gore me on his blade. While, somehow, still staring daggers at this man's back.  
  
The smile on his bearded face wavered, briefly, before returning. Though slightly less exuberant and more polite, but no less real. My hand was a vice on his arm, white knuckled.  
  
I-  
  
I am armoured and armed to the teeth. I am the perceived threat here. A glance at my- his, stalled companions really drives it in. Looks of one part curiosity, half worry, hands not far from weapons.  
  
He looks so much like Father. Father was more tan, darker, his hair had been grey, his face aged when I last saw him. He's like a younger reflection.  
  
"Hawke you need a hand there? We don't have time for staring contests with strangers." Varric's smooth voice, my name, directed at this stranger with my Fathers face.  
  
I refilled my lungs, violently, had I stopped breathing?  My hand dropped from his arm.  
  
"Sorry," my voice was horse and quiet and barely audible even to myself. Concern pressed the man's features and he rubbed at his wrist.  
  
"Are you alright?" He placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and looked over at the dwarf. As if to say without words that he would only be a moment.  
   
His voice. It. It was Dads. Nearly. Younger, different inflections. If they spoke in the same room and you didn't know them well you could not have discerned the speaker, I'm sure.  
  
"Be quick Hawke. Don't want to keep the darkspawn waiting." There was my name again. The rest of the expedition group carried on ahead. All but Fenris who lingered like a shadow in dark leather.  Only the distinct red flare missing from the oh so familiar elf. Glaring like he does not know me from a hole in the wall. Or a very annoying bug. Annoying bug definitely. Yes just joke about how much that hurts.  
  
I drew my attention back to the stranger. I'm moving too slow. My reaction time is terrible. Awkward on awkward.  
  
"Sorry, you look like someone," my voice was clear this time and I'm telling the truth. He does look like someone. This all looks awfully familiar with a few details out of place. One being you. Mystery bearded man with my father's face. The part of my brain usually screaming for me to think first is gone right now.  
  
"Who? I like to think I have a very distinct look."  
  
I shook my head, "My father. I'm sorry, you just look like him." This is maddening. All of this is maddening. Is honesty really the best go to here. Running sounds like a good idea. Perhaps waking up another good alternative to this backwards void I have slipped into.  
  
"Oh," his voice was a breath. He was puzzling over me, squinting a little bit as if to see me better, just really looking. I flipped my hand up to knock off my hood. Releasing my shock of short dark hair.  Stare away, tall and beardy, stare away. He worried his lip, let out a breath. Little mannerisms I felt familiar with. "If you don't mind me asking. What is your Father's name?"  
  
"Malcolm," slipped out automatic. I looked at him, at his blue eyes, those were mothers eyes. Bethany got moms looks and her eyes. Carver a little bit of both, but that same blue. I think I wound up with some combination of features from grandparents I never knew, but I have Dads eyes. Amber brown, golden in the right light. He's stopped breathing. It's the best thing to do right? Drive the nail home. Finish this blow. I know I've had enough for today I deserve to dish a few out. "Malcolm Hawke."  
  
"Malcolm Hawke," the name seemed to force its way over his lips, tense, like I just accused him of killing kittens. "You're sure?"  
  
"Yes." No. Abort. Redact that. Oh boy.  
  
He shook his head, mess of hair ruffling. Dark and fluffy. I bet if I reached up and touched it, it would be the same texture as my own.  
  
 "that's just not possible."  He took a step away, "Who are you?"  
  
What did I admit to here. I'm Marrian Hawke and you are in the place I was six years ago. I don't know what's going on or who you are but I have a sinking suspicion that I don't like this at all.   
  
I'm you.  
  
No not that at all.  
  
That's not the conclusion you would jump too. Nor the one that you would want someone to jump to. Not that this conclusion is much better.  
  
No I just accused my father of having other children. Of fathering a bastard. Of breaking vows he made to my mother.  
  
Or that he had had other children. Before her. That made more sense. He was older. An apostate. On the run, always.  
  
That he abandoned a mother and a child. A child who knew him long enough to remember his face. Is that better or worse than marital indiscretion?  
  
Took me a moment with my brain kind of lolling behind everything. Saying things without thinking them through to realise that Fenris was not the only one of my companions still here.  
  
Anders and Isabella were still lingering, watching. Hadn't just up and ventured back to their own corners of the world just yet. Isabella looks like she's just found the scandal of the year and Anders looks like Anders, mildly concerned.  
  
Everyone overall though? Tense. I've been standing here for a long time just staring and not saying anything.  
  
I am outnumbered. If this comes to fight. It won't, I will be very cooperative.  
  
"You first." As ever my mouth makes me a liar.  
  
Moving on instinct. On the balls of my feet with hands at sides ready to fly to dagger, not the dagger, no, my smoke bombs at any moment. I still feel hung over.  
  
A possessed mage, A skilled rogue, A frighteningly powerful great sword wielding elf, and tall beardy looks like my father. I would suspect rogue because he's me. That's the answer. He is me. In this backwards situation. So rogue. But the spear but possible staff on his back really says otherwise. Maker damn it. There is no way I could incapacitate all of them and escape.   
  
What is this? What blighted hole have I fallen into?  
  
He's boring holes into me. Here I am interrupting the beginning of his exciting adventure. Then going on to disparage our fathers name. Ah ha ha Marian. What will you think of next.  
  
"Garrett Hawke, or Hawke." He shrugged, "Most people just call me Hawke."  
  
I nodded slowly. It feels like someone just ran me trough with a sword. Pain jutting through me from my abdomen. My hand falls there, to that clean cut in all my layers.  
  
"Marian," Marian Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall, but just Hawke will do. My lips are warm and slick. Blood? I dabbed at it with my fingers, coming away red. Oh.  
  
No one has moved. No one stabbed me, but I have been stabbed. Clearly. Red life flooding over my fingers from the slit in my armour. Buckling. My knees are gone and I can't stand.  
  
"Anders!"  His arms are solid catching me. He even smells like him, from where my face has been pressed into his shoulder. His hands are warm. Magic warm. Smoothing down my back to the wound that goes right through me under my last rib. "Anders you're better at this!"  
  
"I can't do this here." No don't use magic out in the open Anders. "We need to get her to the clinic."  
  
I'm off my feet like a doll, limp and useless. Tucked against Garret Hawke's chest.  
  
"Right," I could feel the word in his chest.  
  
"Careful with her. We don't know how bad this is."  
  
Don't pass out. Magic is stitching through me. Like skinned knees. Broken arms. It feels like Dad.  
  
"Pretty bad. I don't think I could make it much worse."  
  
"Hawke," gravely, enrapturing, Fenris. There you are, Fenris.  
  
"You can go on ahead. Tell Varric to wait. That I got caught up."  
  
He's nodding somewhere in my peripherals. Mop of white hair up and down. Don't go Fenris. Then he is. Everything's blurry. My eyes are watering. The sting of tears nothing compared to the sharp searing hell of my open insides.  
  
Garrett's steps are quick and careful but I can feel every single one. Don't pass out. I closed my eyes.  
  
"Awfully interesting story she has."  
  
"Isabella, not the time."  
  
"What do you think Anders? Hawke's got a long lost sister? Come to die in his arms?"  
  
Yes Anders what do you think?  
  
"I-"  
  
"Isabella! She's not dyeing." The loud thrum of his voice against my chest. I trust that. I'm not going to die. Thank you strange Hawke.  
  
"I'm just saying."  
  
I can still feel the light sway of magic moving through me. Gentle and soothing. He's a mage, dad was a mage.  
  
You're a mage.  
  
"-er a mage?" I manage, pressed into his shoulder.  
  
"You haven't passed out yet. That's-" Strange? Unfortunate? Inconvenient? "good."  
  
"Mm."  
  
"Yeah. I'm a mage." He was quiet. Nearly more felt than heard.  
  
"Like Dad?"  
  
"Like Dad. Not as good yet though." He sighed, "You probably shouldn't try to talk."  
  
He can hear how ragged my breathing is I suppose.  
  
"Righ-" I broke off into coughing. Liquid in my lungs. Good idea.  
  
"We're almost there okay. You'll be fine."  
  
"There's the lift. Once we're on I can take over."  
  
Thanks Anders.  
  
"Thanks Andres."  
  
I'm sure the lift operators are giving them strange looks. There's a brief very rushed exchange between Isabella and one of them. Then I felt the shift and slight sway as we stepped onto the wooden platform.  
  
"We should try to get her to drink an elfroot potion. It will speed things up," Anders said, very clinical. Healer through and through.  
  
"Right." He was slowly lowering me to the floor. Propped up against his legs.  
  
Loud and sudden were the crank and screams of the chains as we started to move. The first shuddering drop of the lift as the gears slipped and caught was enough to slam me into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea kind of blossomed from replaying this dang game so many times.
> 
> As far a character descriptions go I'm going with "default" Marian and Garret but with changes like: the Hawke family is darker/more tan skinned, and swapped default eye colours for M and F Hawke. Like I'm pretty sure Leandra has blue eyes? Like I know they can all change in appearance but I couldn't find a good ref for canon Hawke parent eye colour, so this.
> 
> Side note. I'm still working on chapter four of A dragon; A sword, I've just been a bit distracted cause I got hold of DA:O (first play through still in progress), then I had this idea and it needed to be written down.
> 
> Minor edit: I stuck my writing playlist at the top.


	2. Defame a Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke losses one thing and gains another.

The lift dropped abruptly only to slam again as the gears managed to catch. I had the Woman half lowered to the floor still braced on one arm a propped against my legs. The Lifts lurch rocked her hard and I could feel her breath wetly leave her lungs as her features contorted in pain.

A new wave of healing, more boldly now that we were out of public eye, swept up from my hands. Letting it seep through her as I searched in vain to find all the pieces of her that were torn and stitch them back right. The warm glow of green filling the darkness of the lift shaft.

"She's passed out. You'll have to forget the potion." Her heart beat was sluggish and desperate while her breathing slow and painful to hear.

"Figures. I'm surprised she managed to stay with us this long." Blue light flared up as he kneeled next to me, hovering over her. I wonder if I'll ever be able to do that. Spirit healing. His hands ghost light over her abdomen.

There was a hole right through her from front to back. Internal organs severed, the wound itself nearly as long as my hand. A stab wound from a very large sword If I had to guess. The kind Fenris would use.

A wave of blue fire sealing the outer wound to stop most of the blood loss. Looking like it had been healing for weeks not seconds.

"How do you think she managed that?"I let the question sit.

"I'd like to know how she was hiding that gash for the good hour she was staring into your pretty blue eyes."

Anders was focused heavily on what I could guess was stitching her insides back together.

"The muscles could have been tensed? That can happen right Anders?" Anders gave a shake of his head. It's not likely.

"She should be dead." He whispered then through his focus.

"Well I'm glad we got to her then. It's not every day you find long lost family." Tried not to let the bit of anger I could feel in my throat slip out. Or maybe I didn't.

"Do you really believe her then Hawke?"

"I-" I don't want to. "I don't want to think- that." That my father wasn't exactly who I remembered. "She does have his eyes."

She was so earnestly shocked by me. By my face. Like she was looking at a ghost. I can distinctly feel the hand shaped ring of bruising that's started to form where she grabbed my arm.

Marian Hawke. Would she be a Hawke? How old is she? When? Was father with mother? No. Not likely. If she recognised our father it means she's seen him and was old enough to remember his face with enough clarity to see it in mine. So he had to of left. Left her. That seemed so cruel. That's not the man I remember. With kind hands and a gentle voice, family ever important.

"You okay kitten? Your staring holes in the girl and I don't think she needs any new ones."

"Yeah."

The lift shuddered to a halt as we reached the under city.

"Can I move her Anders?"

"Carefully. There's still a little mending needed yet."

I braced my back and scooped the unconscious woman back up, gently as I could. Returning the pulse of healing to my hands. Letting the green light wash over her for just a moment before we were in the sight of the public once again. She was looking better already. Still pale, but she was no longer a blood fountain of racking breaths. I could feel her heart beating a little more steady.

Our walk to Anders clinic was brisk. Not wanting to remain long in the stench of filth that was darktown. The air was marginally better once in the clinic itself.

"Here. Lay her down."

I set her down on the empty cot. I'd been here a few times over the past few weeks myself. With injuries that were just out of my realm of casting, and without the funds to spare for elfroot while saving up for our expedition.

I can heal fairly well honestly, but I'm bad with my own injuries. Something about focusing to seal a wound or re-stitch a bone while your reeling in pain is awfully hard.

Sprit magic danced on Anders arms. Blue and alive rushing and flowing over Marians still form. She was breathing fine now and her features no longer contorted in pain. It was a relief. I barely know this woman. I have no way to be sure if she's telling the truth, but if I just let her die. If I didn't get the chance to learn more. To get the full story. I would regret that, no matter what it means.

"Thanks for this Andres. Once we're back. If you ever need anything for the clinic."

"Make it back first."

"Right." I tucked a lock of short black hair behind the woman's ear. "She really does look like him, just a little." She had his eyes, but also his completion. Warm and earthy.

Isabela brushed against my shoulder, with something that was not her shoulder, leaning in to see her.

"I can see the family resemblance. You're both delectable."

"She does have your look." Anders had stepped back. Eyes going back and forth between Marian on the table and myself.

"My look?"

"Yeah that Hawke flare." The pirate gestured with her arms imitating a burst of flames.

I sighed. This was a lot. I didn't really want to think about it. This girl. My sister. My Father. I stepped away from the stranger on the table. Rolling my shoulders. Deep roads. I need to focus on that. This can come later.

"She'll be alright now Anders?"

"Well, She might be sore for a bit but she's whole again. I'll keep a keen eye on her just in case."

I nodded.

"Isabella. After she wakes up why don't you get her a drink on me." I pulled a few silvers from what remained in my pouch. Little though it was. Dropping them into Bela's eager hands. Maybe if I can charm her with Isabela she'll still be here when I get back.

"Drinks on you! You hardly need to ask."

"Try and keep her around. Find out more about her. If you can." As much as I don't want to think about it. I need to know. I need to know who she is and why she's here. What happened to her. If what she said is true.

"I need to get going. We'll be back in a few weeks."

"Best of luck Hawke."

"Loot a little extra for me."

I nodded to Anders and placed a hand on Isabela's shoulder. Patting lightly before tuning for the door. Then I'm on my way, one foot in front of the other. To the Deeproads. To darkspawn. To security from the templars. So my mother doesn't lose any more family.

I stepped up onto the lift heading up.

I knew I wasn't going to bring Carver from the start. Hate to say it, or he would hate to hear it. I couldn't leave my mother with nothing. No recurrence.

Maker have mercy what would I do about mother. Did she? Did she know? Marian is a thousand questions in my head. Questions I don't need when I should be focused. I rubbed at my temples.  
"Blight take this."

Deeproads. Focus on that. I'm not taking Carver.

Fenris is a better swordsman. A friend. I hope. Despite his harsh words at our first meeting, I'm growing on him I think. Mage or not. He agrees to my running about and antics often enough.

I can stand as the party healer in place of Anders who I wouldn't want to drag back to the Deeproads and away from the refugees who need him. Besides I can't imagine Fenris and Anders surviving each other for that long in a confined space. Not that Merrill and He are much better.

Merrill despite her... faults, is a skilled and ferocious offensive mage, where I'm, not.

I have always focused on the elements and now since- Well I am learning skills that focus on party aid. I have basic healing down, I can throw shields, and I'm going to learn spirit healing. I decided that the moment I met Anders and saw what he could do. Heal. If I could do that. If I could have done it then.

That makes a well balanced team. A rogue, Warrior, and one offensive and one defensive mage. Perhaps I'm putting too much on Fenris with only one short range party member, he'll draw all the heat. Merrill can step in when it comes down to it. So could I, even though I should focus on strategy and remaining at the edge o battle to asses party health, see where best to throw a burst of flame or crack of lighting.

I was heads or tails really over bringing Aveline or Merrill. Aveline would have been my first choice. But I didn't want to pull her away from training to become guard captain. She deserves some stability. I pull her along enough as it is. I can spare her this risk.

I sighed. The lift halted and I stepped off. Finding my way back up to high town and then down the greater staircase off the market. There may have been a straighter rout to the coast and our exit point into the roads. I was never one for directions and hoped I hadn't taken so much time that I couldn't catch up.

So I was running. Peoples unchecked eyes following me, staring. It's a little bit exhilarating, distracting, all focus on movement. No room to think of a woman on a cot with my father's eyes. No room to think about him abandoning a child, his child. No I'm not thinking about that at all. Attention on landing my feet in the right places and not tripping down a flight of thousands of stairs and breaking my neck.

Until I nearly barrel into Merrill. My hands flying out trying to throw my momentum back instead of forward and down the descending stairs.

"Oh," the startled sound bursting from the little elf's lips. Somehow our combined efforts kept me from tumbling over her as she caught my shoulders. With a mantra of sorry so sorry following as we both got our footing.  
"Oh Hawke! It's you. That's good we were coming to get you."

"I'm sorry Merrill. I just about sent us tumbling all the way to Lowtown." I chuckled patting her shoulders as she still held mine. Both catching our breath. A shock of white hair caught my attention from farther down the steps. "Both of you came to get me? Together?"

"The Dwarfs brother is getting impatient. He thought it unwise for the blood mage to go alone."

"Were you planning on getting lost Daisy?"

"No. Why would I plan on getting lost?" She looked a bit flustered by my joke. "I've been getting much better at finding my way."

"Well we shouldn't keep Bartrand waiting." I stepped around her and started down the steps.

"Are you feeling alright Hawke? You look awfully pale," Merrill trilled after me. The two elves fell into step behind me a wide birth between them.

Was it really showing that bad. The turmoil I was not not experiencing in my gut. Marian Hawke.

"We almost fell down the largest staircase in Kirkwall." My voice wavered a little. Uncharacteristically. Is this why I'm bad at cards?

"If you're sure. You look like you saw a ghost." That's apt. A ghost. I sighed clasping my hands together.

"I have a sister." I stared at the steps as my feet carried me over them. Rough sandy stone on and on and on.

"Bethany?" She says it softly, a little confused. Like it will sting me. She may have a very sheltered worldview but she's never intentionally cruel. Or at least I've never found her to be. So I laugh. I can feel two sets of green eyes on the back of my head.

"No. Not Bethany. I found out I may have another sister," I hope I don't sound sad. "One I didn't know I had until today."

"That's wonderful Hawke. Was it that woman with the flashy armor? The one who was watching us? Then grabbed you while we were leaving?"

"Watching us?"

"You didn't see? She was standing there when your Mother came for Carver. She looked sad. Or maybe a little confused."

"Did you notice any signs of her injury while you were assessing her mood?" Fenris low predatory voice from just to my right.

"Was she hurt? Is she alright?"

"Yes, and she's fine now, Anders healed her while we carried her to the clinic." My hand ghosted down my abdomen on impulse. Feeling a sympathetic twinge of pain. Hovering over my approximation of where she had to have been gored by some blade.

"It sounds like it was very exciting. Or maybe I shouldn't say that."

"Did you speak with her?" Fenris asked. I looked at him in surprise. Unsure of the intent behind his words. Concern? Genuine curiosity?

We turned off a landing on the stair into strait path to a gate out of the city to the coast. Tight packed houses nearly walling in the street.

"Ah, not really," I breathed. "She asked if I was a mage. I told her I was."

"Do you think that was entirely wise Hawke?" There's that touch of recognizable scorn I'm accustomed too.

"No, but she was only," I shrugged my shoulders," Half conscious. I think."

"What if this is some ploy. How do you just trust so easily?"

She caught me off guard. She's rocked something out of place and I can't think about it. So I just said it. I'm a mage just like Dad.

"Well if Marian is trying something," I said instead, seriously. "She'll just have to wait for us to get back from the Deeproads." I could see our group ahead, just outside the open gates. Bartrand shouting something at Varric and the younger brother trying to placate him. Recognising the soothing lul of his voice from here.

"You think she will remain in Kirkwall?"

"I hope she is. I would like to meet her." The other elf chimed in.

"Well I don't know why she's here in the first place. It seemed like she ran into us by chance. In any case I've set Isabella on her. If there is something nefarious going on, I think she'll sniff it out."

"You mean if Isabela hasn't bedded the woman and moved on by the time we return."

"Perhaps that would give her all the more reason to stay. I hear Bella is quite the charmer." I won't pretend I haven't seen the pirate flirting at Fenris, and the occasional ruffled feathers and even more occasional reciprocation on his part. I mean I flirted at both of them when we first met too. I do that a little too often with my companions. Maybe.

"Hawke! Did you solve your lady troubles."

"She swooned right into my arms!" I put a hand on the man's shoulder. Finally reaching the expedition group. A few workers loading our supply wagons. Man drawn. It was a relatively small party. A few merchant dwarves and a handful of people Bartrand hired. Then us.

"Was she taken away by your sculpted beard or was it the soulful blue eyes that shine like jewels?"

Laughing I emended my statement, "I'm sure the blood spilling out of her gut helped quite a bit."

Concern flashed on Varric's face.

"Okay, Hawke. This I really do have to hear." It's good to joke about things. Varric makes things so much easier. I really don't know where I would be without the guy. Almost makes you wish he wasn't in a dedicated relationship with his crossbow. Almost.

"I'll tell you on the way. I'd hate to keep your darling brother waiting a moment longer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Notes: I decided that I would only post chapters after I finished writing the next one so this has actually been ready since I posted the first chapter. (I'm actually breaking the rule right now but 3 is long enough and at a point where I could call it a chapter, but it's not where I intended 3 to end. I'm posting this anyway.)
> 
> Unlike aD;aS all perspectives are going to be separate chapters. I may come to regret that if I ever have like just a lil snippet I want to toss in from some other pov.
> 
> Part of me wants to make it really clear in the Chap description which hawkes chapter is which, and part of me wants to make it like you gotta read a bit to find out. So if I come back and edit that to just say "Hawke" don't be surprised.
> 
> TBE as always.
> 
> P.S. that "not not" is intentional. My lack of punctuation might be wrong though. ¯\\_O_/¯
> 
> Notes: this contains all the original mistakes and is in first person. I'm weird and cherish that shit. Please read the updated chapter on the original fic.


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